


Everything to Me

by Rina (rinadoll)



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Case Fic, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Haunted mansion, Mystery, evil ghosts, lesbian ghosts, lots of ghosts, one hotel room left ooooooh, out of town bust, sad ghost backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/pseuds/Rina
Summary: "I always thought Holtzmann was bad with the words, but you’ve got her beat,” Abby said, shaking her head. “She actually tried, and I think you’ve regressed since college, which is pretty impressive, actually."A ghost story with a cursed island, miscommunications and a really nice hot tub.





	Everything to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emerla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerla/gifts).



> Emerla, a lot of the things you listed in your prompts are things that I really love, and clearly I got inspired! I hope you like your story.
> 
> Also, I cherry-picked some events and characterizations from deleted/alt scenes to help create a fuller picture of these two.

“On the road again!” Holtz was singing every trip themed song she knew, Abby was organizing the food, Patty was pulling down all the blankets and pillows and Erin was getting the movie set up. 

It had been just over a month since the battle of Times Square had cemented them as the Ghostbusters in their new digs, and Erin still got a little giddy that she had a group of friends who willingly and happily all spent time together. She’d been friendly with coworkers over the years, of course, but they’d been work friends. They mostly socialized at boring work functions and went their separate ways otherwise. These were real friends.

“Just can’t wait to get on the road again,” Holtz whirled by her, singing, and pulled her into a spin. Erin stumbled out of it, catching herself on the wall by the tv. Really confusing sometimes, but real nonetheless. 

Erin loved movie night, which had quickly turned into a weekly tradition. They sometimes went out for dinner or drinks, but every Thursday so far was definitely a movie. It didn’t interfere with Patty’s many date nights, and they usually hadn’t yet had too much togetherness for the week. 

Ghosts didn’t keep to a regular 9-5, pulling them in during weekends and overnights sometimes. Patty was determined to keep them from burning out, which meant days off, comp time and time away from each other. Erin realized the logic behind it, but appreciated all the time spent together anyway.

She settled onto the couch and waited for the others to join her. She plucked at the edge of her plate, not wanting to start before everyone else was ready, and watched her friends move around Holtz with practiced ease.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before everyone was in place, Patty commandeering her favorite armchair, Abby in the beanbag chair Holtz usually dove for, and Holtzmann dropping onto the couch next to her and handing her a drink. 

“On, Jeeves,” Holtz commanded. It had been her turn to pick and she had chosen what she called the world's best road trip movie--Boys on the Side. Erin hit play and took a bite of her eggroll. 

She’d somehow never seen the movie, but it was good, and she settled more comfortably into the couch after she finished her plates. She tucked herself tighter into the corner to avoid hitting Holtz as she swung her legs up and settled them next to her.

Being engrossed in the movie, she wasn’t paying attention to Holtzmann, so she jumped when Holtz rearranged herself, sprawling out and resting her feet in Erin’s lap. Holtz didn’t seem bothered, eyes still on the movie, so Erin dragged her eyes back to the screen, too. She brought her arms up higher to give Holtz space. 

She’d barely gotten used to that when Holtz rearranged herself again, resting a pillow against Erin’s thigh and plopping her head down on it. Erin glanced at the others, but no one else seemed to notice, or care. It at least gave her some more room for her hands, so she pulled her focus back to the movie and not on Holtz’s weight against her. 

Near the end of the movie, Holtz shifted again, sitting up and leaning against Erin’s shoulder. “Gets sad now,” she whispered. Erin opened her mouth and Holtz quickly continued, “Not a spoiler. Just a statement. Shhhh. Watch.”

Erin hated spoilers, but that wasn’t what she was going to complain about. She shifted around, trying to figure out where to put her hands. The easiest place would be--nope. She awkwardly twisted a little to rest both her arms on the side of the couch and tried to focus back on the movie. Which was, as Holtz said, getting sad. 

“That was not the best road trip movie ever,” Abby said, sniffling as the credits rolled. 

“What is this 90s bull with women dying at the end of road trip movies?” Patty complained, wiping at the tears on her face. “Shit, that wheelchair, man.” 

“I thought it was the best when I first saw it,” Holtz said, not budging. “I was 12, and it dumped Follow That Bird and beautiful Maria into second place. I could be persuaded to change my mind, though. I think the movie changed since I saw it last.”

“When was that?” Abby asked, gathering everyone’s plates. 

“College,” Holtz said, still not moving. 

“I think you probably changed since college, baby,” Patty said, pulling out her tablet. “Anyway, nothing tops It Happened One Night. Except maybe The Muppet Movie.”

“No way,” Abby said. “Next week, we’ll watch The Sure Thing. Erin and I must have watched that one a dozen times over the years, right, Er? Now that’s a classic.”

“Sure is,” Erin said, distracted and squirming a little under Holtz’s continued weight. 

“Man, you are so wrong and I will prove it to you the week after that,” Patty said. “But first, listen to this. Lady says that she lives in a town with a cursed island, and now the town itself is being haunted. Multiple ghosts, things flying everywhere, people scared to be at home.”

“A town?” Abby asked, frowning. “Where? It’s not in Michigan, is it?” she asked, throwing a look over at Holtz, who shrugged. 

“Nope, it’s not Holtzy’s ghosts,” Patty said. “It’s right on our side of Lake Erie, place called Penallt.”

“That’s so weird,” Abby said. “We haven’t seen ghosts that far outside the city yet. We’ve got to check that out.” Patty nodded.

“Can we really be responsible for ghosts that far away?” Erin objected. “What if they start popping up everywhere? We’re only four people.”

“We’re not going everywhere, baby,” Patty said. “I mean, it’s our state, right? That’s a place to start. And if there’s more, we’ll deal with it then. God knows we don’t need to borrow trouble.”

“This is a prime research opportunity,” Abby said. “I vote we check it out.”

“Agreed,” Patty said. 

“Most definitely,” Holtz said. “Road trip!”

“All of us?” Erin asked, doubtfully.

“Oh,” Abby said, considering. “No. We gotta divide up, can’t leave the city undefended. The mayor might get cranky.”

“Holtzy’s gotta go, who knows how the equipment will handle the travel,” Patty pointed out, and Holtz fistpumped. 

“I think you’ve got to go, too, Erin,” Abby said. “If it’s another crank using our book, it should be one of us. But this could definitely tie into the theories of origination you’ve been working on, plus I know Holtz’s babies better than you do, and you won’t be taking them all.”

Erin knew she was right, and she was curious about what was powering these ghosts, but still. 

“Road trip buddy!” Holtz said, finally sitting up and holding her hands out for Erin to slap. 

Erin did so, weakly. “Yay.”

With that settled, everyone started packing up. Erin tried to catch Abby, but Abby skillfully deflected her at every turn. Erin finally gave up, heading home for a restless night.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that Erin finally cornered her.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she whispered frantically. ”What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Abby said. “Maybe that you’re a grown woman with scientific ambitions and a thirst for knowledge who would like to be part of hands on research that may lead to a new breakthrough?”

“Yes, but not like this!” Erin hissed. “Not with Holtz! You know why!”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Erin. Be a grown up. Just ask her already.” 

“I can’t do that!” Erin said, horrified. “How embarrassing would that be? Did you do this on purpose?”

“I swear, I always thought Holtzmann was bad with the words, but you’ve got her beat,” Abby said, shaking her head. “She actually tried, and I think you’ve regressed since college, which is pretty impressive, actually. It makes sense for you to go. Forcing you to figure this out is just a bonus.”

“Abby, this is serious! Did you see how she was hanging all over me last night?” Erin asked. “Do you think that means she thinks we’re dating?”

Kevin ran up the steps towards the lab, carrying Holtz on his back as she cheered, and Erin frowned. "Or maybe she's just tactile? There hasn't been any kissing--at least, not since, well, you know. So that would mean not dating, right? That’s a definite sign."

“Oh, God,” Abby groaned. “Seriously, this trip is going to be so good. For me. You know all my thoughts on this, Erin."

Erin had maybe come to Abby a few times since she and Holtz had run into each other at a bar after work. Maybe a few dozen. Who was counting. Except Abby, probably.

To be fair, Abby had been supportive the first few times. But the longer it drew out, the less patience she had. 

“You have two days to suck it up, buttercup,” Abby said. “Talk to her before you leave, or during one of those multi-hour drives you’re going to be taking together. Nights at the hotel! So many options for so many conversations.”

“You know I’ve been trying to keep it completely professional during work hours,” Erin said. She was putting a lot of effort into not avoiding Holtz and pretending that everything was copacetic and not at all awkward. She thought she was doing better than expected, really.

“And you are doing pretty well with that,” Abby conceded. “But it’ll be better in the long run if you guys just talk. Okay? Just talk.”

Easy for Abby to say. She wasn’t the one who had to admit to her coworker and friend that she’d been incredibly drunk for what had clearly been a really hard conversation for Holtzmann to start. Even with her very limited memories of the night, she knew that much. It would actually hurt Holtz to know she didn’t remember much of anything, and the other thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to hurt Holtz. 

\---------  
Their plan was to leave on Saturday morning--not ideal for the people being haunted, but the extra day was necessary for Holtz to put finishing touches on the nuclear shipping casks she’d been working on to keep her babies safe. Or, as Erin saw it, to keep her, Holtz and the world safe. Yes, the trunk was already lead lined, but none of their equipment had been jostled in a car for as long as this drive was going to take.

Erin kept her cool when Holtz would come swinging by to ask her thoughts on road trip music, routes, etc, but it was harder than usual not to read into every interaction. Erin finally admitted she’d never really been on one before, and Holtz was scarily excited to pop her “road trip cherry” and plan everything.

After that, Holtz would just flash her random wild grins while she worked and Erin never had a chance to start a real conversation--or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Abby shook her head at her a lot.

Early Saturday morning, Erin and Holtz met at the firehouse. Erin’s bag joined Holtz's two in the backseat and Erin frowned.

"Do you think this will last longer than three days?" Erin asked, worried, as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Nah, the estimate is right. But a wide variety of items go into looking this good," Holtz said cheerfully. "Now please, take a look behind us. We have, for our snacking pleasure, a cooler with drinks and sandwiches, plus plenty of easily holdable pleasures--nuts, popcorn, Pringles, jerky, etc etc etc. And, of course, breakfast to start us off. Milady."

With a flourish, Holtz handed over Erin's favorite coconut latte and a small bag with a cheese danish inside. Erin inhaled and smiled. "This is amazing, Holtz, thank you."

"You're welcome. And now, most importantly, no road trip is complete without the right soundtrack. I present to you, our music."

Holtz hit play and Erin braced herself before cocking her head. “Send Me On My Way?” she asked, surprised, before grinning. “I used to love this song.”

”I know how to pick music,” Holtz said smugly. “Onward!”

Erin had just enough time to settle her coffee into the drink holder before Holtz threw the car into gear and peeled out of the garage.

Somehow Holtz had been able to put equal effort into the transport casks, snacks, plans and music during their brief prep period. Her playlist was a mix of their styles, songs that Erin had heard from Holtz’s lab along with some of her own favorites. There was also a healthy dash of 80s and 90s songs that Erin had loved, which made her wonder if Holtz had asked Abby for advice or if her youth had just been that stereotypic, music wise.

An hour in, Erin had proved she still knew all the words to We Didn't Start the Fire, and Holtz was making her sing along to everything. With few exceptions, Erin knew the songs and it was hard to not join in. She ended up not protesting too much, and, during an enthusiastic performance of Blind Melon's No Rain, realized that she was having a lot of fun. 

The drive went better than Erin expected. Holtz had refused to relinquish the wheel, which probably got them to Penallt sooner than if she had taken a turn. They’d snacked, sang, played a few road games, taken a few planned breaks to stretch their legs and look at whatever Holtz had deemed interesting, and arrived a full 45 minutes earlier than their GPS had suggested. It still hadn’t felt like six hours.

Until she stepped out of the car and it hurt to stand up, anyway. 

“Next time, more rest stops, check,” Holtz said, stretching until her joints popped. She slung all three of their bags plus the cooler over her shoulders and waved Erin away. “Go get the door, sweetcheeks, I got this.”

Erin held the door for Holtz and squinted at the lobby. It was very frilly. 

“Ladies! Welcome to The Newport.” An older lady with steel grey curls came bustling through a doorway. “How can I help you today?”

“We’re checking in,” Erin said. “Erin Gilbert and Jillian Holtzmann?” Holtz saluted.

“Oh, thank God, you’re here!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m Terry, I sent the email. We’re awfully glad that you were able to come help.” She typed furiously on her computer as she spoke. “I’ll let you get settled in and then you can join me in the parlor for tea and the story.” 

She hit print, handed Erin paper to sign, and gave Holtz a pair of keys with small tags dangling. “You’re in the Garden suite. It’s the third floor, last door. I know it’s far to carry your equipment,” she said apologetically, “but Abby suggested that it would best to give it all plenty of room. This is one of our largest rooms, with vaulted ceilings, a fireplace and king size bed.”

“Yessssssssss,” Holtz said, cheerfully. “Perfection. Many thanks.” 

Erin grabbed the cooler off Holtz as they headed down a long hallway towards what could only be described as an elevator that time forgot. She pulled open the grate and held it for Holtz and the bags. The narrow elevator was a squeeze, and Erin wondered how they’d get all their equipment up. 

They headed back down the long hall on the third floor until they ended up back over the lobby. Erin opened the door and froze. 

“Time to walk inside now,” Holtz said helpfully. “Inside the door, please.”

Looking back, Erin should have figured that she and Holtz would be in the same room--after all, the mayor wasn’t going to foot the bill for an out of town bust, so they had to conserve costs. But then Terry had called it a suite. This was not her idea of a suite.

Holtz’s enthusiastic exclamations blurred in her ears. She could objectively say it was a nice room--large, like Terry said. The ceiling was at least 12’ tall, with a gorgeous bay window and seat filled with pillows. It was done in creams and browns, and pops of red. The walls were a soft blue, with green rugs on pale wood floors. Unlike the lobby, there were no frills, and the flowered vines decorating the walls were unobtrusive. It felt more like being in nature than a floral wonderland. Even the fireplace was made of lovely natural looking stonework. The lovely fireplace across from the wrought-iron bed frame that looked like four trees creating a loose canopy of iron leaves. The only bed, in the only room of the emphatically not-suite.

“There’s a hot tub and fireplace in the bathroom, too!” Holtz said gleefully. “That’s what we’ll need after the bust. Gotta install that at the firehouse. Next project.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “No WAY. Stairs to the bed.” She took off at a run, flew up the steps and launched herself on the bed. “I feel very special right now.”

“Holtz, come on. You don’t see anything wrong with this?” Erin asked.

“Not really,” Holtz said. “This bed is amazing. Try it.”

“I am not going to try it!” Erin exclaimed. “Holtz, there’s one bed. Two of us. This isn’t okay.”

Holtz spread-eagled her limbs. “It’s huge. We’ll both fit, easy.”

Erin set the cooler on the table next to the fireplace. “Let’s go talk with Terry. Hopefully she can fix this.”

Holtz slid off the bed, fiddling with her necklace. “Okay,” she said, walking quickly through the still open door. 

The walk and ride downstairs was quietly awkward. Erin tried not to feel bad, but come on! One bed! It wasn’t appropriate in any way. 

“Like the room?” Terry asked, ushering them into a small dining room. 

“It’s lovely,” Erin said. “But we’ll need a rollaway bed, of course.”

Terry frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t have one available. Abby said the room would be perfect for you two, that one bed would be fine.”

Of course she had. Erin mustered a smile. “I’m afraid Abby was a little mistaken,” she said. “Can I book a second room?”

“Oh, dear,” Terry said. “I guess there was a misunderstanding. I don’t have any other rooms available. Between the leaf peepers and locals avoiding their houses, the other inn and I are all booked up until you two fix the problem.”

“I see,” Erin said, stomach dropping. She glanced at Holtz, who was absently tugging at her collar and staring at a wall of signs. “All right. I suppose it’ll be fine then. Time to get up close and personal, right, Holtz?” She laughed awkwardly.

“Can’t wait,” Holtz said. “So, Terry. Tell us about these ghosts. When did they show up?”

Terry poured them each a cup of tea and pushed small sandwiches and scones at them. “Earlier this week. They come and go, always the same ones and the same places.”

“Interesting,” Erin said. “They must be anchored to the locations. What happens when they come?”

“That’s what she said,” Holtz said, popping a bite of scone in her mouth. 

Erin resolutely didn’t look at her.

“I think the important part is where they go,” Terry said. “You see, we have an island about half a mile off our shore. It’s been abandoned for about 60 years now, after a fire destroyed the main house, and it’s cursed. I think that’s where they go.”

“Really?” Holtz asked, leaning forward. “Why cursed? Why go back there?”

“The island was owned by a very rich family, the Van Houghtons,” Terry said. “At their peak, they had basically a little village on the island, with everyone who lived on it as their tenants. By the time it burned, there were only about 10 people living on the island. It was the end of the family,” she explained. “After it burned, there were a lot of nosy people who wanted to see what riches still existed, so they went over and took things. But people who did that had a lot of bad luck after--lost jobs, broke limbs, had a fire of their own. A lot of items got returned back to the house. People don’t go there anymore. Haven’t in decades. It’s better that way.”

“So why do you think the ghosts do?” Erin asked.

Terry sighed. “Because the ghosts are the people who died there in 1953.”

“Whoaaaaaaaa,” Holtz said softly. “Bet that was a nasty surprise for any living relatives.”

“Yes, quite so,” Terry said, shaking her head. “It was a terrible shock. John Abrams had a heart attack after his childhood best friend’s ghost came flying in and started throwing things around the room. Others recognized family members or sweethearts, or knew the faces from photographs. We’re a small town, ladies. Families stay here a long time, and we know each other’s history. And now that history is flying around, lost and angry. They need help, as much as we do.”

“That’s where we’ll start then,” Erin said, finishing her tea. 

She and Holtz headed for the car. "Our usual plan won't work here," Erin said. 

“No ghost chipper for these ghosties,” Holtz agreed. “I’m way ahead of you. I texted Pattycakes to get some info on the fire and the people who died. Most of this equipment is going to be useless.” she said, waving her hand at the tightly packed trunk. “We may have to trap some, that’s not ideal. But I’ve got these two new puppies that ought to work a right treat.”

She rummaged through one of her bags and pulled out a flat, blue disk and a wrist guard. “This is something of a humane temporary containment. Flick it at the ghost, and when it hits, it’ll isolate the ghost from its surroundings while we get into place or get a new piece of equipment to help. Like a little jail. Press this button on the guard and the walls go whoosh and ghostie is free.”

“That’s great,” Erin said, inspecting it. “How long does it hold?”

“More than five minutes, probably less than 50,” Holtz said. “The upper end is a bit of a mystery.” She reached in and showed Erin a similar looking disk, in hot pink. “This is the opposite. Smack it, drop it on the ground and we’re the ones isolated by a wall impenetrable to ghosts. The downside is that it’s also impenetrable to our proton packs and any other goodies. No blowing up a ghost from behind the wall, it’ll just stay on our side. Not so good for us there. But it is handy for when there are multiple ghosts and we want to set up. Or run. Step on it to deactivate.”

"How many do we have?" Erin asked.

"Two of each so far," Holtz said. "But they should be reusable."

After a quick check in with Abby and Patty, they decided to visit the island for themselves to see if they could locate any disturbances that could have caused the ghosts to appear. Patty was working on anything that might be tying the spirits to the area that they could help with. Terry had their cell phone numbers and would call if any ghosts showed up in town. 

It was a short drive to the pier, where Holtz chartered a boat from a skeptical man who clearly thought they were crazy for visiting the island and not sticking to the town.

The ride was quick and they disembarked to suit up. They had their packs and a trap along with the new wards, just to be safe. 

“She said 60 years, didn’t she?” Erin asked as they slowly made their way through thick growth covering the ground. “It looks like no one has ever been here.”

“Nature is a possessive bastard,” Holtz said, navigating them through the brush. “The town should be coming up soon,” she said and stumbled. “Oh, found the curb.”

They walked down a street of hollowed out buildings. Some were the slackened ruins of wooden structures, with the occasional tree growing through collapsed ceilings, and others were brick buildings, many with shattered windows and broken facades. It was a little creepy, and Erin was grateful for the sunshine to balance out the bleakness.

After a quarter mile, they came to the brick archway leading to the stately Van Houghton manor. Even untended and abandoned, it was still quite imposing. They passed by a dilapidated marble fountain, cracked and choked with grass and flowers, and made their way towards the wide front staircase.

“Oh, shoot, there’s no key,” Erin realized suddenly, as they climbed the slippery, moss covered steps.

“Uh, I think we’re okay,” Holtz said, gesturing. “Pick a window, any window.”

Erin looked up from the steps and saw that, indeed, several of the porch windows were mostly gone. 

They climbed in carefully and looked around the foyer. This part of the house hadn’t been touched by the fire, and it had the eerie air of people just disappearing. Over in a protected corner, a raggedy woman’s coat was draped over the back of a thickly dusty chair, which was tucked into a table that had a vase, telephone, and tipped over lamp on top. The nearby bench was slouched to one side, the fabric seat riddled with holes and stuffing, near a tall stand with three umbrellas waiting inside. Ornate peeling wallpaper covered the walls, chipped paint roughened the ceiling, and the huge thick rug was covered with dirt and greenery that had blown in through the windows, along with random items--silverware, broken statues and china, and more. 

“Returned stolen goods or angry ghosts?” Erin asked. 

“Even odds,” Holtz said. 

They carefully made their way through the archway that branched off into the living areas. The deeper into the house they got, the cooler and damper the air felt, and Erin shivered. It was unsettling in a way their previous busts hadn’t been.

They walked through the rooms, stepping around puddles and trying to avoid breaking anything further. A few windows of the library were cracked open, and wind had deposited books and paper all over the floor, but left two pairs of slippers by the couch in front of the fireplace. A music room had a grand piano, dusty and filthy with cracked keys that still played, though out of tune. 

The last room led to a conservatory-like hallway that ran the back end of the house. The inner wall was the brick of the house, with stone arches and glass panels overhead and on the outer walls. Sunlight spilled through the windows, filtered through the many trees and dust on what glass remained. 

“I know this place is as creepy as hell,” Holtz said, as they crunched their way through the gravel, glass, leaves, and other debris that littered what remained of the tiled pathway, “but man, it’s beautiful.”

Erin was about to agree when she started to taste the familiar ionized air and her PKE meter started spinning. It spun open, and then slowed to a stop. She and Holtz traded glances and kept going. They finished their crawl of the first floor and carefully made their way to the second. Evidence of the fire was clearer up here, with blackened walls and far more damage. 

The rooms in the right wing seemed to be the most damaged and they slowly made their way in. The first was a bedroom, with the remains of two beds, and it led to a narrow dressing area, with what looked to have been a vanity, plus maybe an armoire. 

"Is it weird that I enjoy the aroma of mildew?" Holtz asked, breathing deep.

"Holtz, focus," Erin said, and then turned to look at her. "What? Yes! Stop that."

Holtz shrugged. "I fell in love with the smell of the first time you turn on your air conditioner every summer, and never looked back."

The PKE meter started slowly spinning as they continued through to the third room, a less formal library or living room than the one downstairs. The ceiling was cracked and missing in pieces, showing both beams and a peek into the third floor, and in a few places, the plaster on the walls had given way to the framing behind it.

“Look at this,” Holtz said, stooping down. She shoved away a mound of debris and picked up what had caught her eye. “This teacup is barely damaged.” The only sign of wear and tear was a missing triangle, along with the ever present dirt and dust. 

The PKE spun itself open and that was their only warning before three full-torso, presumably class IV female ghosts flew in. Erin raised her proton gun automatically as they started flinging debris and broken items around the room. 

“Holtz! Put down the cup,” she hollered, flinching as rotted wood went crashing to her right. 

Holtz fumbled, trying to set the cup down gently back where it had been protected for so long. “My apologies!” she yelled to the ghosts.

They gave one last whirl of debris and departed as fast as they came. The PKE slowed to a stop.

“So, definitely protecting this place,” Erin said, catching her breath. 

“They didn’t throw anything at us, not even me,” Holtz said, piling the debris back up to be safe. “They just wanted their cup back.”

“No ectoplasm, no direct attacks,” Erin mused. “I wonder if the places they’re visiting have items from the house, or that belonged to the ghosts, and they want them back.”

“Sound theory,” Holtz agreed. “We’ll test it out tonight.”

They paused for a moment in the hall, looking over the conservatory hallway and beyond the line of trees that had sprouted. They could see a walled off, tangled garden with a gazebo, and the ruins of a few small buildings dotting the landscape between the house and the edge of the island. 

“Nothing here looks like it’s been disturbed since the 50s,” Erin said. “So what woke up these ghosts?”

“We need to find out where they’re buried,” Holtz said. “Maybe something happened there.” 

“If the stolen items really were cursed, then they’ve been protecting the place all along,” Erin said. “Something’s changed. Maybe Patty has learned something.”

The rest of the second floor had additional bedrooms and smaller living quarters. They tried to go through the third floor as much as they could. It seemed to house servants rooms and storage areas, but was also weakened from the fire. One of the rooms was entirely unsafe.

They made their way back downstairs and then outside. They walked the perimeter and were at the back of the house by the glass hallway, debating the need to check out the other buildings when Holtz tripped and went sprawling.

Before Erin could move to help her up, the PKE started spinning wildly and a full figured ghost swooped in so fast, Erin couldn’t tell where it had come from. He floated over Holtz briefly before there was a huge crack. Without warning, a tornado of debris, leaves and sticks and whatever else covered the ground, rose and started swirling around them. 

And unlike the earlier ghosts, this one had no problem attacking. 

He flung out his arm and an energy spike sailed down towards Holtz, who just barely rolled out of the way. Erin whipped out her proton gun, but before she could even get her finger on the trigger, the ghost had yanked Holtz up and was holding her off the ground. She swung wildly, trying to reach back and grab her own gun.

Erin shot at the ghost. “I don’t care whose sweetheart you were,” she yelled, “you get your hands off her!” 

The ghost roared as the stream slammed into him, but held tight to Holtz as the winds intensified around them. Holtz yelped as the debris scratched and sliced at her, distracting her from her goal.

“Hang on, Holtzy!” Erin loosened the trap and tossed it down. She gripped the gun with all her might but struggled to gain control of the ghost, and bitterly wished for a chipper or something to explode him. She’d settle for capturing him.

She planted her feet as firmly as she could on the uneven surface, gritted her teeth hard and finally roped it tightly enough to heave it off balance enough that it let Holtz drop to the ground. Erin let out a whoop as the ghost roared again, but both their reactions were quickly swallowed up by a new gust of wind.

Holtz yanked her gun out as she ran back to join Erin, catching him from a new angle, but the ghost’s anger over losing Holtz seemed to increase his strength. He broke out of their joint streams and just as his mouth widened to project ectoplasm at them, Erin pulled out her pink disk and smacked it. She threw it to the ground in front of them and it landed just after Holtz was covered with slime.

A wall of golden light burst out of the disc and Erin’s gasp mingled with Holtz’s whine.

The ghost roared, diving towards them, and Erin raised her gun again--but the light blocked him. He reared back and spewed more ectoplasm but it fell uselessly to the ground. He bombarded them with energy spikes, but they bounced harmlessly away. 

With one last glass-shattering roar, the ghost flew off. 

“Are you okay?” Erin asked frantically. “Did it hurt you?”

Holtz tested herself. “I’m in one piece,” she reported. “Turns out leaves hurt like a motherfucker when they scratch you. And you can feel branches through twill. I like to learn new things every day, but these were not the things I expected to learn today."

"Let's get you back to the inn so you can clean off," Erin said, worried. "I don’t know what will happen with ectoplasm and scratches, if it can infect you. We can investigate the rest of the buildings next time.”

The trudge back to the boat, complete with squelching boots, was slow, and the drive back felt long. Erin was still usually the slime magnet, so she was able to offer Holtz one of her wipes and a towel to wrap her hair up, but she knew how miserable it felt and let Holtz complain.

“Oh, dear,” Terry said, eyes widened, as they walked in. 

Holtz saluted her and made her way down the hall towards the elevator while Erin gave Terry a brief update. Terry promised to speed up collecting photos so they could know which ghosts they had faced, and Erin headed upstairs.

She opened the door and saw Holtz’s jumpsuit on the floor in front of her. She rolled her eyes, picking it up to put in their decontamination bags, and then realized that Holtz had apparently stripped all the way towards the bathroom--boots were to the side, but pants, vest and shirt made a trail towards the other door, which was cracked open. 

Erin let the door close behind her with a snap, sighing as she bent to pick up all of Holtz’s clothes. 

As she picked up the shirt, she could hear Holtz swearing up a storm inside. She nudged the door open just a little. “Holtz? You okay in there?”

“Erin, I cannot lie, I have been better,” Holtz called back over the running water. 

“Is it the ectoplasm interacting with the scratches?” Erin asked. 

“That’s definitely not pleasant,” Holtz said. “Slightly burny, really. But mostly it’s the leaves and dirt and I don’t even know what else that has bonded with the ectoplasm in my hair. I think it’s cemented in,” she said, her tone somewhere between scientifically curious and really annoyed. 

“What are you using?” Erin asked, pushing the door open a little more. She retrieved the sock now in reach. 

“Water and shampoo,” Holtz said, and now her tone was verging on rude.

“Oh, don’t do that, not for that much slime,” Erin said. “After a certain point, I swear it makes everything worse.”

“That is the third thing I didn’t expect to learn today,” Holtz said. “Again, though, your timing is late.”

“Again?” Erin asked. 

“So close with that disk,” Holtz said. “So close.”

“Sorry,” Erin said, wincing. “Let me get you my secret weapons.”

She packed Holtz’s clothes and grabbed her toiletry bag. She hesitated at the bathroom door, because, presumably inside was a bathing Holtz. Naked bathing Holtz? She knocked feebly against the door. “Um, I don’t--” she began, but Holtz cut her off.

“Erin, I don’t know what you have, but get in here and give it to me,” she said. She paused and snorted. “That’s what she said.”

“Stop saying that,” Erin said. She took a deep breath and stepped into the bathroom, eyes down. She slowly looked up, ready to hand this to Holtz and dash, and realized it was a very nice room--Holtz hadn’t been kidding about the fireplace and hot tub.

Holtz was a shadow behind the tinted glass of the shower stall and she squinted at her before she caught herself. She stepped over and averted her eyes. “Here you go,” she said, pulling out two small bottles and setting her bag on the vanity.

The stall door opened, letting out a whoosh of steam, and Holtz peeked out. “Dish soap and mouthwash?” she asked. “What am I doing with this?”

“Washing your hair,” Erin said, trying hard not to look. “Do a few washes with the Dawn, it cuts right through everything. Hopefully it will loosen the forest in your hair, too. Then you dump a capful of Listerine over your hair when it’s clean, let it sit, then rinse it out and you’re good as new.”

“How on earth did you figure that out?” Holtz asked.

“Lots of trial and error,” Erin said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Holtz said, clanging the door shut, and Erin picked up the last sock, leaving the rest of Holtz’s things for Holtz.

“Oh, shit,” Holtz yelped and Erin’s heart jumped into her throat. 

“What?” she asked. “What happened?”

“Cuts plus soap plus ectoplasm and a particularly sharp twig is a terrible combination,” Holtz said, and it sounded like it came from gritted teeth. “0/10, would not recommend.”

“Can I help?” Erin asked, not realizing what she was offering until it was out. She bit her lip, hard, and mentally yelled at herself. 

“Yes,” Holtz said, immediately. “Never let it be said that I don’t know my limits. Some of them. A few of them. I’m literally pulling my hair out here and that’s definitely a limit.”

“Really?” Erin asked. “I mean, I don’t, you don’t, I could, I guess, really?” She shook her head at herself. She offered, Holtz said yes, stop babbling. “Do you have a towel? I think this will be easier in the tub.”

Holtz shut off the shower, and Erin quickly turned her back to open the taps on the whirlpool, running it more like a warm bath than a hot tub. When she turned back, Holtz was wrapped in a towel--and wow, she hadn't noticed on the island, but her hair did look terrible.

“I know,” Holtz said. “It’s bad.” She stalked over to the tub and got in, towel and all, crossing her arms. “That ghost was out to get me. I hope he’s not someone’s most beloved relative, because he is going to pay for this. PAAAAAAAY.”

“I’m sure he will rue the day he met you,” Erin agreed. She turned on the jets and Holtz relaxed with a little groan that ran right through Erin. 

Erin took a deep breath and critically looked at Holtz’s hair, trying to determine the best way to start. She saw a pile of twigs and leaves in the garbage bin, so clearly this wasn’t even the worst of it. She plucked at a few twigs, but everything really was gnarled together.

She poured a handful of Dawn on her palm and dug in. After a minute, she could feel it loosening up the slime, and with that, it was easier to remove the bits of nature that clung in. 

It was four rounds and thirty minutes before it was mostly clean. They’d had to dump and refill the tub twice, but Holtz’s hair was looking far more like itself again. Though much longer than Erin had thought--she’d never seen it down before pulling it out of the tangles herself, and she was surprised to see it fell past Holtz’s shoulders.

Erin tossed the empty container of Dawn and grabbed the second one out of her bag, grateful she had brought extra. She went in for one last round, fingers running through the long strands, trying to coat them all, before moving back to her head. She started rubbing the soap in firmly, giving Holtz’s scalp little scritches that made her smile and sigh happily. She worked the soap all the way down, rubbing the ends and making sure all the leaves, twigs and dirt were fully gone. 

One last rinse of water and it looked fully clear. “Almost done,” Erin said, clearing her throat. She’d been so focused on her work that she’d been quiet the whole time. Oddly enough, so had Holtz. “This part is a little less fun,” she warned. 

“Mm-hmm,” Holtz agreed lazily, as Erin filled a capful of Listerine. 

“Brace yourself,” she said, cringing, as she poured the liquid over Holtz’s head. 

“Ah!” Holtz yelped, jolting herself upright. “That’s cold, Erin, what the hell?”

“I warned you,” Erin said, working it through all of Holtz’s hair. “I know. It’s awful. But it helps.” She gave Holtz’s scalp a few more scritches, and Holtz sank back down into the water. “Give it a few minutes and then we’ll rinse,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and stretching her fingers out. She cleaned up some splashes on the floor and pulled out a dry towel for Holtz. 

“It’s all tingly,” Holtz said, as Erin stepped back over to do the final rinse. 

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Erin said, scooping water and pouring it through Holtz’s hair. “I promise you won’t smell minty after it dries, though.” 

“Eh, it’s cool either way,” Holtz said. 

Erin gave it a final rinse and called it done. “I’ll go email Abby and Patty,” she said, “And then we can figure out our next steps.”

Holtz lazily saluted her as she scurried out of the room. She sat down, hard, on the bed, and rubbed her temples. That had been...intimate. Shockingly intimate. It wasn't just the hair washing; she'd never shared any Moments with her hairstylists before.

She’d liked having Holtz lean on her for help. She’d liked seeing Holtz in a new way, with her hair down and free, and getting to play with it. And, God, she’d liked seeing Holtz in nothing but a wet towel, and this was all terribly overwhelming. She’d tried so hard to keep things professional, but this trip was blurring everything. Holtz was her friend, and her coworker, and if only she knew for sure what they had talked about that night, she might have a better idea of what to do next. She didn’t want to misstep and ruin everything they and the team had built.

But work. She could do that. She pulled out her laptop and started the email back to HQ. 

After fifteen minutes, she finally hit send and Holtz came out, wrapped up in the dry towel, hair still loose but dry.

“Forgot to get my clothes before I went in,” she said, bending over for a bag and setting it on the bed. 

Erin nodded, her stomach jumping at the sight. She tried to keep her eyes averted, but it was almost impossible. And then it was definitely impossible, as she sat upright and grabbed Holtz’s arm. “What happened?” she asked. “Are these the scratches? Do they still hurt?”

Holtz’s arm was covered in pink welts, and she shrugged. “Nah, these are from the sticks and branches. I told you I could feel them through the jumpsuit,” she reminded her. “Totally non-consensual switching, totally not cool. The scratches are mostly on my hands,” she said, pulling her arm free and giving Erin jazz hands. “Nothing out of the ordinary there, I cleaned them and they’re fine.”

“Okay,” Erin said, dubiously. “Let me know if that changes.”

“Roger that,” Holtz said. “Mind if I get dressed now?”

“No, no, sorry,” Erin said hastily, and Holtz grinned at her. 

Erin flopped back on the pillows and groaned. She wished she could ask Abby for advice, but she knew exactly what Abby would say, and there would be zero sympathy. And she was sure that Holtz would have confided in Patty, and she’d hate to put Patty in an awkward spot. 

Actually--what if Holtz had confided in Abby? They’d been friends for years, but she and Patty had just bonded so well, that she’d never...hopefully Abby would have told her, right? Maybe she should have gone to Patty instead.

She turned over on her side and checked her email as a means of distraction. Twenty minutes later, Holtz bounced out of the bathroom, hair swept up like nothing had ever happened to it, and in one of her dapper waistcoat and trouser outfits. 

“Shall we?” Holtz asked, bowing.

“Shall we what?” Erin asked.

Holtz pointed at the clock. “The Newport offers a light European style dinner between 4 and 6 every night,” she said. “There was a sign downstairs. Shall we?”

“Oh,” Erin said, glancing down at her flannel top and jeans. “Am I...should I change? I didn’t bring anything nice.”

“Your sweet self should be just fine,” Holtz said and Erin followed her downstairs. 

There were a handful of other guests in the dining room, where tables were loaded with a basket of bread, with meats, cheeses and condiments. Holtz immediately started piling together a giant sandwich.

“You two look much better,” Terry said, as she walked around checking on all the guests. 

“Back in fighting form,” Holtz agreed.

“I’ve passed on your number to families affected by the ghosts,” Terry said. “You’ll find that many of them will be at the Fairgrounds tonight for the show, and I know they are eager to speak with you.” Another guest waved their hand, and she hurried over.

“A show,” Holtz said, delighted. “I wonder what is showing at the fair tonight? I hope you will do me the honor of attending to find out.”

“It does seem like the best next step,” Erin agreed. 

They finished their sandwiches, took a few trips to bring their equipment upstairs for safe keeping and walked over to the Fairgrounds. Holtz was disappointed to see that it wasn’t really a fair, but hosted one during the summer. It was a compound about a half mile long, set up alongside a wooded creek across town from the Van Houghton’s island.

They passed by a garden and pumpkin patch, with a kid sized train looping them, and made their way to the main building. Where, it turned out, the show was a dog show. Erin tried to lead Holtz to the refreshment areas, where people were chatting, but Holtz was insistent on buying them tickets for the dogs first, because they’d walked in just as they were announcing her favorite group, the non-workers. 

“It’s where they put everyone who defies categorization,” she said, finding a seat in the back for her and Erin. Erin had to admit the variety was cute. 

“Now we can wander,” Holtz said, as a bouncy Dalmatian was named top dog of the group. She placed her hand low on Erin’s back as they left the room and Erin stumbled over her own feet in surprise.

“You’re the Ghostbusters, aren’t you?” A woman caught up to them, looking hopeful, and Holtz’s hand dropped.

“That we are,” Holtz said cheerfully. “Being haunted?”

“My brother is,” she said. “I’m Carrie Bradley. My grandad used to work on the island, with his first wife. She’s one of the ghosts, and she showed up a few days ago. Just the once, though.”

Once people saw them talking with Carrie, they were inundated by locals who had a lot of stories to share. Only a few were being haunted, but most had connections to the house or island and worried they were next. Erin directed them all to a table, settled in, and tried to take notes to make sense of it all. Some of the stories seemed like family legend more than fact, especially since no one there was old enough to have known any of the deceased, but hopefully Patty’s research would help tease that out.

They shared their theory that houses that were haunted might have items that belonged to the ghosts or the house, and a few people looked chagrined. 

After a few hours, they had a notebook full of notes, biographies and stories on the people who worked there. No one seemed to know much about the owner. One person thought he’d been married, another said he’d been gone most of the time and didn’t spend much time with the poorer people on the mainland. Two people shared the rumor that he’d killed his wife’s companion, who had never been found but was known to be there that day. Rather than typing it all out, Erin took pictures with her phone and texted them to Patty. 

Next to her, Holtz had her head in her arms. “So many people,” she groaned. “I thought they’d never stop talking.”

“We’re clear now,” Erin reassured her. “Want to go back to the inn?”

“We didn’t finish exploring here yet,” Holtz said, jumping up. “And I’m hungry. Let’s see what they have.”

Holtz bought them each a hot dog, along with a bright blue cotton candy cone. She offered some to Erin, who turned her down the first three times. After that, she took some just to make Holtz be quiet. Holtz beamed at her, lips and tongue an awful shade of blue. Erin nervously smiled back, hoping against hope that she’d not taken enough to turn blue herself.

They wandered around the building, which also seemed to be a community center with classes, a greenhouse, and a skating rink that was currently full of teens, then ducked in for the end of the dog show. Holtz quietly rated each dog in between bites of cotton candy. None of them were rated below 11/10, which didn’t make any sense to Erin, but Holtz seemed to be having fun. She cheered when the Dalmatian won best in show, and they followed the crowd out. 

Holtz insisted that they stop for a funnel cake for the walk home. The temperature had dropped once the sun went down, and Erin found herself grateful for warm handfuls as they headed back in the cool autumn air. 

They were greeted by a stack of boxes on the inn’s porch, all marked “For the Ghostbusters” or “Please return to the island!”

They dragged them inside and sorted through them in the front parlor. Most seemed to be random items from the home, much like the ones they’d found littering the foyer. Others had notes attached--”This was Billy’s flask. I kept it to remember him, but maybe he wants it back.” “This ring has a lock of Betsy Jay’s hair woven in. My mother had it cut it off before the funeral”--and others were envelopes addressed to the ghosts. 

Erin finished taking notes on the contents as Holtz repacked them. “I’ll put these in the Ecto,” she said. “Maybe the lead liners will confuse them so we don’t get haunted by everyone tonight.”

Erin texted Patty photographs of this set of notes while Holtz took the boxes out, and they headed upstairs. 

Holtz unlocked their door and held it open for Erin. The sight of the one bed sent butterflies through Erin’s stomach again. She’d been so intent on the local stories and wandering around with Holtz that she’d managed to forget what was waiting for them. She looked longingly at the window seat. It was too short for her, and probably for Holtz, too. Not that she could ask Holtzmann to sleep on a window ledge to make herself feel better.

Her phone vibrated and she looked at it in relief, grateful for the distraction. "Patty says we'll debrief in the morning," Erin said. "She's found some stuff out, and thinks these objects might be a big help."

“Excellent,” Holtz said cheerfully. “Whirlpool time?” 

Erin had to admit that yes, she really wanted that. A relaxing distraction to end a really long day. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” she said regretfully. “I think I’m just going to read and go to bed.”

Holtz raised her eyebrows, opened her mouth, and seemed to think better of it. “Maybe we’ll find you one tomorrow,” she said and Erin nodded. “Do you want to get ready first?” 

Erin went through her routine quickly, trying to remind herself that the bed was big, that they were going to be asleep and she wouldn’t even know Holtz was there, but it didn't really help. She left the bathroom and found Holtz on the floor with her legs up against the wall, with only the two bedside lamps dimly lit.

"It takes a lot to wind my brain down," Holtz said, not opening her eyes. "There's a whole routine. Behold."

"That's fine," Erin said. "Bathroom's ready whenever you want it."

She pulled out her pajamas for when Holtz left. They were her favorites, an old worn X-Files tshirt and flannel pants, but they weren't exactly attractive. Not that she wanted to be attractive! But she didn't not...want...she set them aside and busied herself setting up chargers and putting their proton packs in easy reach, just in case.

After a few minutes, Holtz slowly stood, picked up a bag and went into the bathroom. Erin quickly changed and set her clothes out for the next day. She took a deep breath, pulled down the poppy print quilt and climbed up into bed. When Holtz came out in a tshirt and boxers, her lamp was off and she was skimming through a favorite Connie Willis story on her tablet, hoping the familiarity would calm her. Not so much. 

“Do you want me to sleep in the window seat?” Holtz asked. 

“No,” Erin said. “You were right, the bed is plenty big enough.” 

“Thanks,” Holtz said, forgoing the steps and lifting herself up. She got herself settled and turned off her light as Erin tried to keep her attention on her story, enjoying the whiffs of lavender from Holtz’s side. 

Holtz set her iPad down between them. She slid a thin band around her head and under her braid. “I sleep with these headphones and my sounds,” she said and Erin glanced over. “So if we get haunted and I don’t wake up, kick me awake.”

“Roger that,” Erin said, eyes catching on the tablet screen. It was open to YouTube, and she wondered what the sounds were. “Night, Holtz.”

“Night, Erin,” Holtz said. She moved her iPad to the nightstand, pulled on an eye mask, rolled over, and that was it. There was nothing scary or complicated. There was plenty of space. It was that easy. Comfortable, even, listening to Holtz’s even breaths. 

Erin read until her eyes grew heavy, then set aside her own tablet and followed Holtz’s lead.

She was relieved when it was her alarm that woke her, and not any of the ghosts. She glanced over, and saw that Holtz was still curled up, faced away from her. She stretched and before she could overthink why, she quietly slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She ran a brush through her hair to tame it a little and brushed her teeth.

Holtz seemed to still be sleeping, so Erin tried to climb back in without disturbing her. She pulled out her tablet and started browsing the news and her favorite morning sites.

She felt shifting next to her and glanced over. Holtz’s mask was off and her hair was sticking up more wildly than usual. “Morning,” she said. 

Holtz slid off her headphones and dropped it with a groan. “Mmmmf. Morning,” she mumbled.

Erin could hear noise coming from where the band lay between them. “What are your sounds?” she asked, curious.

Holtz twisted her spine left and right until it popped, then shrugged. “It’s not real science, but it works, so.” She scooted closer and slid the headphone wrap over Erin’s head. It felt like a fleece workout band, still warm from Holtz, and as she adjusted it, she could hear echoing tapping noises and someone whispering over them. “Welcome to the world of ASMR. It relaxes me enough to knock me out at night,” Holtz said. “Especially handy in hotels and new places. There’s a lot of videos.”

“Of tapping?” Erin asked.

“Nah, there’s more.” Holtz grabbed her tablet and dropped it on Erin’s lap. “Explore. I’ll be back.” She started the Keurig before heading to the bathroom.

Erin went through Holtz’s playlist (helpfully entitled Frankie says RELAX) and realized the videos were oddly soothing. “It’s like getting a head massage,” she said when Holtz came back and fixed their coffees, taking a long slurp of her own. 

“I know, right?” Holtz said happily. “God bless YouTube.” She set the mugs on Erin’s nightstand before climbing the steps and launching herself over, landing next to Erin with a bounce. “Let me show you my favorites.” She took the headphones off Erin and pulled up a new video, then another. Erin thought some of them were weird, but loved others.

Erin’s tablet rang and she looked at the clock. “It’s been an hour,” she said, shocked. “That’s Patty. Oh, crap.” She looked at the two of them, huddled in the middle of the bed, still in pajamas, and bit her lip. Well, nothing to do now.

She accepted the Skype video and smiled nervously, watching herself blush. “Good morning,” she said.

“Isn’t it, though?” Abby said, eyebrows raised, while Patty grinned at them. Erin started to make a face but quickly realized that Holtz would see on camera and turned it into a cough.

“Pattycakes! Wow us with your research prowess,” Holtz said. “Whatcha got this fine day?”

“Baby, I got scoops,” Patty said. Texts started dinging on Holtz’s tablet and Patty went through it all. Between research and talking with a few of the town residents who had known some of the ghosts, they had names, some photos, and ideas of what might help at least a few of them pass over. 

“What about the owner?” Erin asked. “We haven’t met anyone who knows much about him here.”

“His name was Roger Van Houghton,” Patty said. “He and his wife, Violet, only lived there a few years. He inherited it from his uncle and then went to fight in Korea not long after they were married in 1951. He came back in ‘53, and they died in the fire a few months later. There isn’t much about Violet at all, not even in her obituary. No information about her family or anything. She was almost a ghost before she was, well, a ghost.”

Holtz looked at the scanned newspaper photo from Roger and Violet’s wedding day and shuddered. “Well, that’s that the creepazoid who attacked me yesterday, for sure.”

Erin leaned closer, brushing against Holtz accidentally. Even alive, Roger had not looked particularly warm and friendly. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to help him leave peacefully,” Erin said. “I think he needs to be trapped, or eliminated.” Holtz nodded emphatically.

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be like the other ghosts at all,” Patty said. “No family, and that crap he pulled with Holtzy puts him in a more malevolent class. Explode his ass.”

They decided to visit the island after breakfast to return the boxes of items and see if that helped some ghosts cross over. From there, they’d see what happened and check in again. 

Erin and Holtz started to get ready for the day, and Erin realized she was feeling much more relaxed than she had been. She’d enjoyed waking up with Holtz and spending time with just her, warm under the quilt. She’d never felt uncomfortable at any point. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise, since Holtz was her friend, but there had always been an undercurrent of...something...there. At first she’d just not known what to expect from her, and then there had been the confusion. If this is what it could feel like to date Holtz, maybe it would be worth the awkward conversation. 

She looked up from making the bed and noticed Holtzmann staring at her. “Did I miss something?” she asked, touching her face, and then her hair.

“Nope,” Holtz said. “Just regarding you. Ready for breakfast?”

Feeling a little warm, Erin nodded and they headed downstairs. They updated Terry over scrambled eggs (Erin) and a stack of pancakes the size of her face (Holtz). 

Terry nodded, somberly. “I’d wondered if that was Mr. Van Houghton,” she said. “I rustled up some more photographs, if that helps.” 

“Did you know him?” Erin asked as Holtz took the photos. “We’ve found some information on him, but nothing from first hand sources.”

Terry hesitated. “I didn’t, but there are still some who did. I’ll see what I can do.”

They were soon back on their way to the island, after a brief delay to go through the new items left on the porch. Apparently more people still snuck over than Terry had been aware of. They loaded everything up into a cart, but it was still a pain to drag it onto the boat and through the deserted island.

Erin finally managed to get it up the mossy steps and through a window into the foyer. "What do we do with all this?" she asked. “The stuff that’s from the house, we can leave here. But the personal stuff? That doesn’t feel right."

"Well, Annie, Meg and Betsy are the defenders of the upstairs teacup,” Holtz said. “Might as well deliver to them.” 

Wary of disturbing anything hidden under the debris, they balanced the items in neat rows wherever they could, laying them out like offerings. They waited, unsure of what would happen. Would the ghosts come back and disappear? Just never come back again?

After a few minutes, Erin’s shoulders slumped and she started to feel ridiculous just standing there. “I guess we should figure out the rest of the things,” she said. She’d really hoped to see what would happen to a ghost that didn’t need to be eliminated. 

Holtz held up her finger. “Ladies!” she called. “Come see what we brought you! Don’t make me touch the teacup again.” Her PKE meter started gently spinning. “That’s right! Come on. You haven’t been forgotten yet. Annie, we’ve got you a letter. Betsy, do you miss your hair? That’s just a few of the things waiting for you.”

The PKE spun faster and Erin held her breath. The ghosts reappeared, glowing orange. They ignored Erin and Holtz, zipping over to inspect their items. Annie picked up a raggedy teddy bear, stroking its head, and read her letter. Betsy ignored her hair ring, but paged through a stack of books, while Meg wrapped a quilt over her shoulders and twirled.

"May we have your attention now?" Holtz asked. None of them looked her way. "We're trying to help," she said. "We're hoping that these lovely items returned to you will give you the peace you need to cross over. Are we close?" They waited, but no response.

"Well, at least they seem happy," Erin said, still disappointed. This was some good data about types of ghosts, at least.

"We'll just let you enjoy your things," Holtz said, saluting. "Have a good day, ladies. Thanks for not whooshing everything up again."

Before they could cross the doorway, Meg flew past, blocking their way, and the door slammed shut. Erin and Holtz traded glances. Erin's fingers itched for her proton gun, but they didn't seem to be in danger.

“Okayyyyyyy,” Holtz said, slowly. “Not so much with the leaving. Gotcha."

Annie gently set her bear and letter down and dove for where Holtz had discovered the teacup. She cleared some of the debris and circled the two, nudging them back over.

"Am I allowed to touch the teacup this time?" Holtz asked. The ghosts returned to their items and Holtz shrugged. "Hope so."

She and Erin knelt and started clearing more debris out. Holtz unearthed the teacup and, with a glance at the busy ghosts, lifted it. They didn't react, so she set it aside and kept going.

"Here's a plate, too," Erin said, holding up three pieces of matching china. "I don't see anything else here."

"I do," Holtz said suddenly. She thrust her hand under the remains of a table and pulled out a ring that had been wedged under it. She and Erin leaned in. It was small, silver and slightly misshapen, and engraved with something neither could read.

"I wonder if this is what they were protecting," Erin said. "Not the teacup, but what was near it."

"Whose was it?" Holtz asked. She stood up and held it out. "Who's going to claim this? Is it a wedding ring? It's lovely." The ghosts just watched her. "No takers? Did it belong to one of the others? Violet or Eleanor?" The ghosts audibly buzzed with what Erin thought might be excitement.

"Can we try to get it to them?" she asked. "We'd have to take it with us."

Meg pointed to the door, which opened slowly.

"Excellent," Holtz said. "Thanks, ladies. You've been wonderful. Sorry we couldn’t help with the passing over thing. We’ll keep trying, though.”

Erin started pounding Holtz on the shoulder as they walked back to the hall. “Holtz! That was amazing! We communicated with them, and no one attacked! We still have to figure out how to help them cross over, but those items meant something to them. Their old selves were still in there. Not all ghosts are crazy or evil.”

“Totally kickass,” Holtz said, grinning back, but taking her hand so she’d stop hitting. “We’re getting there, babe, I know we are. If they were that protective over a ring that wasn’t theirs, maybe they need to see it returned to its owner to head over,” she suggested. “Let’s try this other stuff, see what happens.”

“The PKE went off in that glass hallway,” Erin said, bouncing a little and squeezing Holtz’s fingers. “Maybe someone else is there.”

They tried talking to the gardener and groundskeeper there, with no luck, so they wandered around, with Holtz calling out to the ghosts and Erin pulling the boxes along. They did find the ghost of the steward in his office, but like the ladies, he focused on his items and didn’t leave. He was, Erin noted, orange like the upstairs ghosts.

Before they could find the others, they got a text from Terry that a ghost had shown up at the inn, the first time they’d seen one. They carefully laid out the items to return in the foyer and hurried back.

Terry looked shaken when they burst through the front door. “She’s gone now,” she said. “She didn’t attack or destroy anything, she just sat there, staring at us.”

“At who?” Holtz asked, as Erin asked, “Who was it?”

“It was Mrs. Johnson, the cook,” a woman said, coming out of the staff area and joining them. 

“This is my wife, Sara,” Terry said, and Sara shook their hands. “It was us she was staring at.”

“We just saw her over at the house,” Erin said. “Annie Johnson. She helped us find a ring.” 

Holtz held it up and Sara looked shocked. “Let me see that,” she commanded and Holtz handed it over. She rubbed it against her shirt and held it up. “It’s Miss Violet’s ring,” she said. “Ter, look, it's just like I told you. Love always EA+VA." She tried to slide it on, but the bent shape made it catch on her first joint.

"We promised Annie and the others that we'd return it her," Holtz said.

"You've seen her?" Sara asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Erin said. "We haven't seen her, Eleanor, Andy or Billy."

"Andy and Billy spent most of their time in the garden and stables," Sara said. "They didn't like the big building very much, said it felt haunted, even then."

"You knew them, then?" Erin asked.

“Ellie was my sister,” Sara said. “I was there quite a lot. I was even there the day they all died.”

Holtz’s eyes widened. “Well, shit,” she said and Erin elbowed her.

“Basically,” Sara said dryly. “Come on, let’s go sit down. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She led them into the staff area, which had a comfortable sitting room, and they settled in.

“I know I should have talked to you from the start,” Sara said. “But this isn’t something I talk about very often, or very easily. I didn’t even tell the full story then. With everyone gone, I didn’t need to. We left after the fire, I couldn’t bear to be here any longer, and I only came back 20, 25 years ago. Since it was with my ex-husband’s name, I’m not sure who even knows I lived here before.” 

She looked down at the ring. “And Ellie hasn’t visited us this week. I don’t even know if she’s there.” She sighed. “I’d like to think she and Miss Violet passed over and are at peace, but I just don’t see how.”

“Ellie was Violet’s companion, right?” Erin asked.

Sara snorted. “Well, that’s what she was hired as originally. But no, they were in love. They were together for most of the year that Miss Violet’s husband was gone.”

Holtz leaned forward, chin on her hands, and Erin blinked, surprised. “And you knew that then?” she asked.

“I did,” Sara said. “Look, Mr Van Houghton was not a nice man. He pretended he was, and I don’t know, maybe he did love Miss Violet. But I think he loved the idea of her. She was the prettiest girl he’d known growing up, he always said, and when he inherited the island, he decided he wanted her there. Her family was gone and she was boarding up north, and he offered her the chance to escape that. I don’t think she’d have accepted if she’d know what she was signing up for.

“He called her the queen of the island, but part of that was keeping her on the island, away from the town. He convinced everyone that she was fragile and ill and needed constant rest. The whole staff believed him and they smothered her with attention and care she didn’t want or need. She wanted to live a life. Instead, he hired Ellie to be her companion while he was away, because he considered our family to be the best of the lot. It wasn’t until he came back that staff started to suspect he was lying to them, that there was nothing wrong with Miss Violet at all.”

"So she spent an entire year without leaving the island?" Erin asked. "And no one questioned it? She didn't sneak off?"

“Her family died of TB,” Sara explained. “All of them. He told the staff she was pre-consumptive and needed to be careful so she didn’t develop the disease, too. We were all afraid of it in those days. As for why she never left, I can’t say. Maybe she would have if she hadn’t had Ellie. Mr. Van Houghton insisted that everyone who worked for him would live on the island, just like it had been generations back, so Ellie was there with her always. 

"Ellie was my favorite sister," Sara said, smiling fondly. "She was the oldest, almost 15 years older than I was. I would take a boat my brother had built and go over to visit them. That's how I knew about their relationship. I thought it was dreadfully romantic, the beautiful princess who could take ill at a moment's notice and her steadfast lover. I read too many fairy tales. It never occurred to me that Miss Violet was as healthy as a horse, and could keep up with me better than Ellie! We would spend hours exploring the island and then take tea in the back solarium. It was Ellie's favorite room."

"The glass hallway?" Holtz asked.

"That's the one," Sara said. "Until Mr. Van Houghton came back, it was filled with plants, flowers and beautiful furniture. Ellie loved anything green, but especially loved growing flowers. Winter looked like spring in that room, and we all enjoyed it. He didn’t like that room, though, and didn’t like how much time Ellie and Miss Violet spent in there. He thought the ladies should be in their sitting rooms or parlour with their work, instead.”

“What work?” Erin asked.

Sara shrugged. “Knitting? Quilting? Whatever he thought ladies ought to be doing. Which was not playing with a wild tomboy of an 8 year old girl, I know that much. After he came back, I could only sneak over to visit when he’d be gone. We had a few close calls, but we’d also spent time exploring the house, and found a few secret passageways built in. I knew how to move around without being seen,” she said, proudly. “I thought it was an adventure.”

Holtz’s mouth opened wide. “I want to explore the hidden passageways,” she said. “Erin, we gotta find them.”

“I think they were mostly staff areas, left over from previous eras,” Sara said. “But I thought they were wonderful. I could cross the house or leave it entirely and no one would know.”

“What would happen if he knew you were visiting?” Erin asked. “Why the sneaking?”

Sara frowned. “He never hurt Miss Violet. But he would get very angry. And I don’t even know how to describe it. He’d seem to forgive her and you could never point to one thing that he did, but her world would get just a little smaller. There would be one more thing we couldn’t do, every time I went over. I didn’t understand it then, of course, and I never heard everything, though I was an excellent eavesdropper, especially with my secret passages. By then, Mrs. Johnson and the girls had caught on that Mr. Van Houghton might be wrong about Miss Violet’s health, and were worried about her. I heard Miss Violet and Ellie, too, and that’s how I knew they’d decided to run away.”

“That didn’t end well,” Holtz said, and Erin glared at her.

“It did not,” Sara agreed. “No one ever knew. Once they were gone, there was no need to tell anyone about their plans. But Mr. Van Houghton found out, and I think he basically decided that if he couldn’t have Miss Violet, no one could.”

“How do you mean?” Erin asked, though she was afraid she knew the answer.

“He set the fires,” Sara said. “He was really not in his right mind. He thought the servants were helping them, and I don’t know, maybe they were. He set them up with tasks in Miss Violet’s wing, so the fire would catch all of them. And it did.”

“How did you escape?” Erin asked.

“Through the dressing room secret passage,” Sara said. She looked away. “Miss Violet pushed me in there when we heard him coming, but she didn’t close the door all the way. I stayed and listened. I remember being so upset at what he said, I had nightmares for years about that day, but the details are all gone now. I know I wanted to run out and make him stop saying those things, but Ellie saw me and her glare meant I had to stay put. The firefighters said there had been multiple fires, I think to catch everyone. I only saw one, though, and I ran to get help. I don’t know if anyone would have seen the smoke for ages otherwise. But it was already too late.”

“What about the ring, was it from Ellie?” Erin asked. “Do you know how it ended up on the floor of the sitting room?”

“It was,” Sara said, nodding. “She’d gotten it engraved to give Miss Violet for her birthday. They were going to live as the Anderson sisters when they left, that was Miss Violet’s maiden name. She never liked being a Van Houghton.” Sara hesitated. “As for the ring, I don’t know. Ellie had a matching one, and neither ever took them off. When Mr. Van Houghton was saying his cruel things, there was a fight. Ellie never would have gone down without a fight. I heard her scream before I ran. I think Miss Violet was found in her sitting room. They never found my Ellie, though.” Sara wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve told Terry most of this over the years, but never this much at once. I hope this has been helpful, but I need to go now.”

“Of course,” Erin said, standing with Sara. “We appreciate everything you shared. I think this will be a big help in getting everything taken care of.”

Holtz stood, too, and flung her arms around Sara. “Just so you know,” she said, “We’re going to help the ghosts cross over. Except Roger. He is going to be eliminated with great prejudice.”

Sara patted Holtz on the shoulder. “That means a lot,” she said. “Thank you.” As she stepped back, a look of wonder crossed her face. “I’ve just remembered something,” she said slowly. “I don’t know how I--about a week before they died, Miss Violet gave me a bag. It was filled with gifts that Mr. Van Houghton had given her, jewelry and all, along with money they had saved. They were going to use it after they ran away. I think that was part of their fight. He wanted his things back, or maybe one thing in particular, but I had put it in a tin and buried it for them to pick up on their way.”

“Do you remember where?” Erin asked.

“There is a cellar under the solarium,” Sara said. “The dressing room passage leads to it, it’s one of the exits. There’s an evergreen tree just outside the exit, on the side of the solarium. We all carved our initials in it, so we could see it from the tea table inside. I buried it under there.” She looked at the ring sadly, and gave it a kiss before handing it back to Holtz. “You see why I think Ellie and Miss Violet are still there somehow. They didn’t die in peace. Give them my love.” 

Holtz and Erin followed her out and made their way to their room.

“This has taken a turn for the dramatic,” Holtz said, as Erin sat on the bed stairs and started snapping photos of her notes to text Patty.

“I’d say so,” Erin said. "Maybe something woke Roger up where he was buried, and the rest came to protect Ellie and Violet?"

"Or something disturbed whatever Sara buried," Holtz said. "He wanted it before he died, maybe he still wants it. And maybe the ghosts were always there, but now they're angry."

“And now they’re not going to rest until he’s gone,” Erin speculated. “Or some of them at least. We should try to get the men’s items to the stables, see if that helps them cross. I don’t know how involved they were in all of this.”

“Let’s do the dance of the ghostly breakthrough,” Holtz said, shimmying up to her, arms over her head. 

“Holtz, no,” Erin said, frowning. “This is not the time. We need a plan.” 

“There’s always time for dancing,” Holtz said. She lowered her arms but didn’t back away, and the proximity started to stress Erin. Sara’s story had left her feeling unsettled, and she needed some space to think. She readjusted her position, sitting further back on the steps.

Holtz was quiet for a moment. “Oh, hey, your first kiss was an Ellie, right?” she asked, and Erin jerked in surprise. “Elizabeth Montgomery,” she said thoughtfully. “I always wonder if parents know they are naming their child after someone famous.” 

“How did you know that?” Erin demanded, fingers tightening on her phone. She’d met Ellie sophomore year in high school and never told Abby. She’d been too humiliated.

Holtz cocked her head. “Um, you told me?” she said. “What’s that face?”

Erin’s mind was racing. She’d told Holtz something so private? What she had she been thinking? What else had she said? 

“Erin?” Holtz sounded uncertain now. “Babe, are you okay?”

Erin hopped off the steps as Holtz reached out for her. “Gotta stretch,” she said, spinning her arms, conveniently out of reach. “Lots of note taking. Ouch.”

“Okay,” Holtz said, staring at her. “Sure.”

Erin resumed texting Patty, hands shaking a little.

"Sara reminds me of Gorin's sister," Holtz said, and Erin could feel her still staring.

"Oh, yeah?" Erin asked, keeping her eyes tight on her phone.

"Defffffffffinitely," Holtz said. "She’d fit right in at one of those big Gorin dinners I told you about.”

“Mmmm,” Erin said, texting herself now that Patty had all of the photos. She couldn’t bear to lie to Holtz, but she couldn’t tell the truth, either. Not now. Not until she figured out why she would have told Holtz about Ellie, and what other painful memories she might have shared. She felt more off-balance than ever, wondering how much of a mess she'd made.

Her chest started to hurt and she wanted to get out of there. “I’m going to go get us some coffee, and then we can figure out the next steps.” She slid her phone into her pocket and tried not to flee for the door. 

“Gorin’s an only child, like us,” Holtz said, and Erin froze. “We talked about how similar the three of us are. Do you remember that?”

Erin tightened her grip on the doorknob. If only she’d moved faster. Or had this conversation three weeks ago like Abby said.

She slowly shook her head.

“No, you don’t remember?” Holtz asked, and she sounded very calm.

“No. I don’t,” Erin said, wishing she felt relieved at the truth coming out. 

“Any of it?” 

“Most of it,” Erin said. She frowned. “I mean, I don’t remember most of it. I’m so sorry.”

“Why so sorry?” Holtz asked.

Erin finally turned around, and Holtz had her arms folded tightly, staring at the ground. She looked smaller than Erin had ever seen.

“Because I remember talking about when you introduced me to Dr. Gorin as your girlfriend,” Erin said, steeling her nerves. ”I remember feeling like we got into heavy territory, and you taught me about vulnerability hangovers. And I remember that you kissed me goodnight and said you wanted to do it again, so I kissed you.” She sighed. “And shots. I remember a lot of shots.”

“So fifteen minutes out of three hours?” Holtz asked. “Boy, you missed a lot.”

“I was drunk and sad,” Erin confessed, ashamed all over again. “And I totally screwed up not telling you right away. I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want you to, well, have a vulnerability hangover.”

“This is much better, thanks,” Holtz said. “So, I’ve spent the last three weeks thinking that we were on the same page, and you thought, what, that you were still dating Kevin this whole time? That nothing had changed?” 

“Oh, I do know how to keep my mouth shut sometimes,” Erin said, a little bitterly. “That’s why I was already drunk, Holtzmann. That was the night Kevin took me out for dinner with him and his supermodel girlfriend, who thought I was absolutely adorable. He patted my head like I was a puppy and agreed. Killed that crush pretty fast.” 

“Can’t imagine how that feels,” Holtz said, and Erin winced. 

“I have been hyperfocused on you the last three weeks,” she admitted. “Not Kevin, not anyone else. Just you.”

“I do stand out,” Holtz said. “I’d say I’m memorable, but not always.” She rocked back. “Go get those coffees, okay? I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Erin nodded, feeling miserable, and berated herself the whole way down. This was why she’d never made friends or lasting relationships. She couldn’t be trusted with other people, someone always ended up hurt. And it was usually her doing the hurting, or the messing up. Better Holtz learn this now, she supposed, before they got too close and made life with the Ghostbusters too hard. Erin would miss them if she had to leave. 

The trip back to the island was uncomfortable, and Erin couldn’t help but feel that she deserved it. She felt bad for Holtz, though, who alternated between rapid fire quips and observations, and silence. Holtz did not deserve this.

“Let’s bring Andy and Billy’s items to the stables,” Erin said, as they made their way up the front staircase. “See what happens.”

“Yep,” Holtz said. They silently packed the items into the boxes and lugged them over. Holtz called out to them, and the PKE meter started to spin lazily. 

“Come on, gentlemen,” Holtz said. “We’d really like you to take a gander at these things, see if they’re to your liking.” 

The orange spirits appeared and Billy dove for his flask. Apparently, he _had_ been missing it. They each reviewed their items, Andy gripping his letter tightly. 

“You’re good at convincing them to come over,” Erin said, nervously. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Holtz saluted, but didn’t look at her.

“By the way,” Erin said, turning back to the ghosts. “John is fine. Your friend? You scared him, but he’s going to be okay.” Andy nodded at her. “I don’t know if you all showed up to get your things back, or to let the town know that Roger Van Houghton was on the loose, or something else, but we got this covered. We’re not leaving until Roger is gone and here are your things. So go in peace, if you can.”

The ghosts bowed to her and Holtz, and disappeared in a flash of rosy pink. 

“Was that it?” Erin asked. “Did they go?”

“I think they did,” Holtz said. She bent and scooped a little remaining ectoplasm that was on the stable floor. “I’ll take some of this to compare to what we have at HQ, but that was a different exit than any we’ve seen. Sweet farewell.”

Erin wanted to feel excited at this new discovery, but she just nodded. “Let’s check out the gravesites before we head back to the house.”

The Van Houghton family cemetery was as imposing as the house. Crumbling monuments from the mid-1700s stood among trees and bushes, and wound all the way through the last burials in 1953. Which stood out clearly--a tree had been knocked over and roots had pulled up some of the ground between Roger and Violet's graves.

"Evil disturbed equals angry ghost," Holtz offered. "Maybe the others were always here with unfinished business, and now they are on the move because of him."

"Maybe they were here because of guilt," Erin said. "Vengeful or angry spirits are blue, creatures are green, maybe orange is guilt or unfinished business. When Roger was released here, they had something they could try to fix to make up for what they did in life."

"That'd be some pretty big feelings of guilt," Holtz said. "But sure, maybe." She shrugged. “Next stop, initials tree.”

The trek back through the overgrown trees and bushes felt even longer and Erin wiped at her brow. They finally made it back to the house, and started the hunt for the tree. Without knowing where the cellar exit was, they were blindly searching every tree that could match Sara's description.

“Bingo,” Holtz said, after about fifteen minutes. “Plus marks the spot.” The letters were carved closer to the ground than they'd expected, and she had only spotted it on a second go around.

Erin joined her and squatted down, tracing the EA + VA (and SC). "Good eyes, Holtz. Now we dig."

Holtz pulled out a trowel and stuck it in the ground, but Erin grabbed the handle. “I got it.” She started digging, hoping that an 8 year old wouldn’t have gone too deep. She hadn’t, but neither had she buried it directly under the letters. Erin had dug in a six inch deep furrow that arced around the base of the tree and had gone halfway around before finally striking tin. She pulled it out and Holtz knelt next to her.

The lid stuck, and Holtz had to yank it open for them. Erin reflexively complimented her strength, wishing she could stop the inane compliments. But despite everything, deserving or not, she wanted so badly for Holtz to not hate her.

A worn purple velvet bag was tucked inside, and it was, as Sara said, filled with money and jewelry. Some still looked new, probably bought for Violet, and others looked to be old family heirlooms. One looked like Betsy’s hair ring. There were also ropes of diamonds and pearls, sapphire and amethyst rings, and at least $500 at a glance. 

Holtz gave a low whistle. “This would have kept them comfortable for a very long time,” she said. “If I was a jewelry type of person, I’d be very impressed with this haul.”

The PKE started to spin wildly, which was their only warning: a split second later, Roger had descended. 

They didn’t have a chance to grab at their proton guns before he’d swiped at them, sending them flying. “Power up,” Erin called, fumbling for her gun. 

Holtz looked like she’d landed hard and she was slower in rolling over onto all fours to get at her gun. “Holtz?” Erin asked, anxiously.

“Powering up,” Holtz answered. She knelt up and they aimed their guns at Roger, who sent an energy spike sailing at them as he rifled through the old tin. 

The women ducked and rolled away. Holtz used the momentum to pull out the trap and chipper. She tossed the proton punch to Erin, who pocketed it. 

“Hey! Roger!” Erin shouted, seeing Holtz power on the chipper and trying to distract the ghost. “This is for Violet, Ellie and Sara, you asshole! And for hurting Holtz!”

Holtz aimed the chipper and started to pull Roger in, but not before he let out a roar and spiked energy towards Erin. The chipper caught the spike and sent it sparking back towards the machine and to Holtz. 

The machine sputtered to a halt, freeing the ghost, and shocking Holtz. It gave a small poof and Holtz yelled in pain, dropping it and her gun. 

Roger swooped in, grabbing her and flying over the solarium, shaking her ominously.

“Shit,” Erin shouted. She aimed her gun at him, trying to pull him closer, because she couldn’t risk him dropping Holtz over the glass and stone. She’d never forgive herself if Holtz got hurt, or worse. 

She grit her teeth and dug in, and just when she thought she was controlling him a little, her pack sparked and the proton stream weakened. 

“No no no,” she chanted, dialing the power up, but she could feel it heating up on her back and realized it must have been damaged in the fall.

She scrambled to look in Holtz’s bag for a shock blast or something that could control Roger without exploding him until he was closer to the ground. She didn’t want to wall him and Holtz in together, and who knew what he would do to her when he wasn’t distracted by her proton stream?

They never found out, because Annie, Betsy, Meg and John the steward flew in from the second floor window and started attacking Roger. Erin shrugged the pack onto the ground, relieved to drop it before it exploded or imploded or something even worse.

“Get him close to the ground,” she called up to them, and they struggled to do it. Holtz groaned as she got splashed with ectoplasm from the landed punches and kicks. 

They fought him fiercely, and slowly they brought him and Holtz lower to the ground. Betsy gave Roger a massive kick in the balls when Holtz was a few feet off the ground and he dropped her with a mighty howl. 

Holtz crawled backwards, grabbing her gun and getting the stream roped around Roger’s ankles. She gave a hard yank down, bringing him to Erin’s level. 

“SCATTER!” Erin hollered and the ghosts flew off in streaks of orange, leaving Roger hanging just in front of her. She punched at him as hard as she could and he exploded, raining ectoplasm. She got her hands up to cover most of her head, at least, but her jumpsuit was soggy and gross.

Erin took a moment to breathe before running to Holtzmann and grabbing for her hands to check the damage. Holtz's gloves had been burned through and her palms were pink, but she seemed otherwise fine. Erin kissed them impulsively and then flushed. "I’m sorry, I know you hate me, but I was so scared. Are you okay?”

“Peachy keen, jelly bean. And I don’t hate you,” Holtz said, giving her hands a quick squeeze before pulling back. “What was with the seriously awesome sparks you were throwing back there?”

“The pack overheated, it’s fine,” Erin said, looking over her shoulder at her jumpsuit. Barely even singed. “Needs to be rebuilt, but it’s fine.” She paused. “You don’t hate me?”

A flash of movement distracted her and she saw that the ghosts were ringing them. John was the first to disappear in a flash of rosy light. “Oh!” Erin said, surprised. “But where are Violet and Ellie? Why didn’t they help get rid of Roger?”

“Maybe they aren’t here after all,” Holtz said. 

Annie reached past Holtz and vines cleared off of a cellar door built into the ground, which creaked open. She curtseyed to them and vanished in a puff of pink.

Erin and Holtz traded a look and made their way over, trying not to slip in the slime and overgrowth. Holtz led the way down the stairs, shining a small light. They ended up in a small concrete room with another door. They opened it and saw it led into a storage room, with a skeleton sprawled in the middle.

“Ohhh,” Erin said softly, creeping closer. Holtz shone the penlight down and they saw a dented tin upturned next to the skull. 

Holtz knelt down for a better look, and the pale orange ghost of a young woman appeared. “Ellie, what are you doing down here?” Holtz asked. 

Ellie flew around the skeleton, low to the ground and up to the ceiling, but seemed locked to that immediate area. 

Holtz frowned and wiped her hand through the dirt, inspecting her fingers. “Did you ever hear the theory that salt could contain spirits and demons?”

“Yeah, but it always seemed like it was folklore, not fact,” Erin said.

Holtz swept away a segment of the dirt around the skeleton and the ghost darted out and began spinning around the room, joined by Meg and Betsy. “I don’t think it’s folklore,” Holtz said. “I think she got hit in the head with this salt tin, it spread over her body and she’s been stuck down here.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Erin said, already wondering what they could do with that knowledge, if they knew where the ghosts were buried. “Holtz, is she wearing her ring?” 

Holtz leaned over the skeleton and nodded. “Ellie, we’re going to reunite you with Violet, I promise. That’s the only reason I’m taking this. No whooshing things.” She picked up a bone and shook it to liberate the ring. “Lovely to finally meet you,” she said cheerfully and set it down it as carefully as she could back in place. 

Erin traded her the ring for hand sanitizer. “Love always VA+EA,” she read. “Do you think we should bury the rings at Violet’s grave?” she asked. “Roger was there until the tree, maybe Violet still is.”

Ellie flew out the door and Holtz jumped up. “Follow her!” 

They ran as quickly as they could behind her, stumbling and catching each other. Meg and Betsy led them when Ellie raced too far ahead. They ended up at the walled garden near the stables. Holtz tugged the rusted gate open and they entered. There, on a bench inside the decaying gazebo, were Ellie and Violet, locked in a tight embrace. 

Meg and Betsy clapped and disappeared into the pink.

Holtz whipped out her cell phone and opened the video recorder. “Ladies,” she called. “I hate to interrupt this reunion, but do either of you have a message for Sara? Tell it to this thing in my hand. She misses you both a lot."

The spirits flew over and blew kisses at the camera. Ellie gestured Holtz over to a willow tree that sat next to the gazebo, and cleared debris with a wave of her hand. She pointed to the open space. 

“I guess we dig again,” Erin said.

“My turn this time,” Holtz said, handing Erin the still recording phone and pulling out the trowel. She quickly discovered a box and pulled it out. Erin and the ghosts hovered as she opened it. Inside was a journal and an envelope addressed to Sara. 

“We’ll give this to her today,” Erin promised. She dug Ellie’s ring out of her pocket. “Holtz, do you have Violet’s ring?” Holtz pulled it out and Violet surged towards her, smiling. She reached towards it and a copy appeared on her finger. “Should we bury these?” Erin asked.

Ellie pointed to the box. 

“In the box?” Erin asked. 

Ellie shook her head as Violet flew over and picked up the hand that wore the matching ring and kissed it. She pointed again towards the box.

“Should we give them to Sara?” Holtz asked. 

Ellie and Violet blew her a kiss, and then one last one towards the phone Erin held. They disappeared together in a rosy flash and Erin stopped recording.

Holtz slumped against the tree. “That was amazing. I never want to move again. Ow.” 

Erin nodded in agreement. She’d taken much less of a beating than poor Holtz, and was exhausted herself. 

“Was she here the whole time?” Holtz asked. “She never tried to leave, or fight.”

"She didn't care about revenge, I guess," Erin said. "She didn’t want anything to do with him. She just wanted Ellie. I wonder if she would have waited for however long it took." She had an idea of how that felt. She dropped on the ground next to Holtz. “I know we need to head back and give all this to Sara, but can we just rest first?”

Holtz rested her head on Erin’s shoulder and Erin’s heart started racing. “Excellent plan.”

They sat there in silence, listening to the birds and watching the trees sway until Erin worried about getting back while the sun was still high. She regretted leaving; knowing Roger was gone, the place was actually very peaceful. And she didn’t know when she’d be so close to Holtz again.

Back at the inn, they gave the full rundown to Terry and Sara. Sara cried when she received the boxes and watched the video, and again when she realized that the note held directions for their plans so she could have kept in touch with them after they left town. She slid on Ellie’s ring and gave Violet’s to Terry, before hugging Erin and Holtz tightly.

As they headed up to their room Erin started to feel nervous again. She and Holtz had left in a bad place, and she wasn’t sure how to make it better. Or how they’d get through the night and drive home. She glanced over at her, but she just kept marching on. Maybe they should leave today. Erin could do the driving, let Holtz sleep.

Right before they reached the old elevator, Holtz stopped and Erin frowned in confusion. Holtz stripped out of her jumpsuit, spotty with dried ectoplasm, and shoved it at Erin. “Pack this for me.” 

She turned and left and Erin’s heart hurt. She pulled open the elevator grate and sagged inside. Maybe Holtz was going to find another room, here or at the other inn in town, now that the locals were safe in their homes. Maybe Erin should find a car to rent here and drive back herself, give Holtz space. Maybe, if Holtz really didn’t hate her, they’d still be able to work together. Maybe she should just get started on work.

She stripped out of her jumpsuit inside the room, and frowned at her hair in the mirror. She’d deflected most of the slime, but not all. She took a quick shower, giving herself just a minute to let the hot water pound away some of her tenseness, wrapped herself up tightly in a robe and started working on her report. 

They’d never know exactly what happened back in 1953, but she thought it was likely that Roger had killed Ellie, and maybe even Violet. He’d first attacked Holtz close to the cellar exit, and maybe he hadn’t wanted Ellie found. Maybe he’d wanted her and Violet separated always.

She hated all these maybes.

She tried to focus on the useful ones--she did have some new theories to consider and investigate on origination. She sent the reports to Abby and Patty and started a new email, this one detailing the reactions of the ghosts to their items and their bravery in fighting Roger. She'd just finished reviewing it when Holtz came in with a bag. 

“Oh, you already showered,” she said, as Erin sent the email to Terry for distribution. “Anyway, this is for you.” She held out the bag and shrugged. “Well, one of them, whichever you like, I guess.”

Erin took it and pulled out bathing suits. “This is where you were?” she asked.

“It’s really hard to find those in New York in October,” Holtz said. “Whirlpool time?”

“I thought you were leaving,” Erin said, clutching the suits tightly.

“I did. Terry doesn’t sell swim suits,” Holtz said. “I said I’d be back. Didn’t I?”

Erin shook her head.

“Oh. Well, I said it in my head,” Holtz said, a little ruefully. “Sorry. Pick.”

Erin chose the blue one piece and handed the bikini top and trunks back to Holtz. 

“Excellent choice,” Holtz said. “I’ll get the tub running, meet you in there.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and Erin stared after her. She’d been so convinced that Holtz wouldn’t come back to stay, and she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. She slowly undressed and pulled on the suit, which fit comfortably. She waited awkwardly, not wanting to go in if Holtz was still changing.

“Don’t you want to get in?” Holtz called. “Seriously, we have to get one of these for the firehouse.”

Erin bit her lip and entered the bathroom. Holtz had turned on the fireplace, which was set to give off light not heat, and was already in the whirlpool, braced against the far wall and slouched so only her face peeked out. 

She eased her way into the tub, slowly acclimating herself to the temperature, and couldn't help her groan as she settled in with a jet aimed at her lower back. It was much hotter than she’d run yesterday, and felt amazing. "Definitely need one of these," she agreed. "Bigger, though."

"The biggest," Holtz nodded.

They soaked in companionable silence, Erin finally letting go of some of the tension she’d been carrying all afternoon and letting herself float a little. Holtz seemed to be singing to herself, eyes closed and lips moving, with the occasional shimmy. 

"Holtz?" Erin asked tentatively. Holtz peeked one eye open at her. “I sent in all the paperwork. You don’t have to write any reports, we’re all set.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today,” Holtz said, letting her eye close again.

“How are your scratches? And the welts?” Erin asked. “You hit the ground a lot today, are you okay?” Abby or Patty was usually the check-in person, but she’d worried about Holtz a lot the last two days.

Holtz opened both her eyes. “I have never felt so personally attacked by a ghost, but I am fine,” she said. “All hail the hot tub.” 

Erin waved her arms in a little cheer and Holtz gave a half smile and relaxed again.

She watched Holtz, looking so peaceful. She hated to disrupt it, but wanted to get the air clear once and for all. It wasn't fair to Holtz, having to be the brave one all the time. "I really am so sorry I didn't say anything after that night,” Erin said quickly. “I never wanted to hurt you, and I know I made it worse. I know you said you don't hate me, but I hope you can also forgive me."

"Are we doing this?" Holtz asked, sitting up. "I guess we should. Ugh. Being a grown-up sucks." She shook her head and droplets of warm water hit Erin. "Fine. All right. Here we go.” 

She exhaled sharply, gearing herself up. 

”I really don't hate you, but I'm mad.” She paused. “Was mad.” She paused again. “Am a little mad. And sad.” She looked down, poking at a few bubbles. “I mean, we went on a lot of dates. I don’t do that with many women."

"I thought we might have," Erin said, sheepishly. "The movie? And the lunches we ate before bringing things back for the others?"

“And the escape room, the world's largest yard sale, the dog show.” Holtz shook her head. “The vintage photo session! Some of my best ideas.”

“Oh, yeah, that was amazing,” Erin said, remembering that afternoon. She’d gotten a letter from Columbia and Holtz had taken her out as a distraction. “I’d always wanted to do those photos but my parents called them tourist traps.” She realized she was off track and refocused.

“In my defense, we all went to the escape room and yard sale,” she pointed out. “And the dog show was part of work. And you never kissed me!”

“I was _trying_ to follow your lead, and respect your boundaries,” Holtz said. “Regrets, I have a few. And yeah, Abby and Patty were there, but we went off together. And I bought you food, which is, like, the hallmark of a date.” She grabbed her necklace and twirled it, frowning. 

“My observational skills are not usually subpar, and I don’t know where I went wrong,” she continued, frustrated. “I thought it all meant something to both of us. I shared things! I don’t share things. Talking is so overrated.”

“Well, I told you things I never told anyone, too,” Erin said, feeling a new wave of guilt. “I trusted you.” She blinked, as she realized how true that was. “I do trust you. And even when it was confusing, I always wanted to spend time with you.” 

She hesitantly reached out and lightly touched Holtz’s hand. Holtz didn’t pull away, so she left it there, encouraged. “Even Abby doesn’t know about my experience with Ellie, though she’s sure heard everything about you this month.”

“Yeah?” Holtz asked.

“Yeah. She’s sort of sick of it,” Erin said. “I wasn’t sure if you were talking with her, too?”

“I figured you had dibs,” Holtz said. “Maybe we can trade off who gets her. I miss the cookies she gives with her advice.”

“Cookies? I never get cookies,” Erin said, frowning. “She just shakes her head at me a lot. Maybe you should keep her and I’ll get Patty. I think she might like you better.” 

Holtz wiggled her eyebrows and preened. 

Erin hesitated. “Does that mean--” she trailed off.

“I still like you and I’m still upset but I forgive you and I’m not opposed to trying again if you’re not drunk and will remember this,” Holtz said quickly. She looked thoughtful. “It does get easier to say with practice. Don’t make me do this again, though.”

Relief washed over Erin and she started to smile before nerves took hold again.

“Erin, your face is giving me mixed messages right now, and that’s not cool,” Holtz said.

Erin bit her lip and considered how to explain what she hadn’t been able to share with Abby in all of their talks. But Holtz was already more important to her than anyone she’d ever dated, and she owed it to both of them to be as open as Holtz had pushed herself to be.

“I am a terrible girlfriend,” she admitted, eyes down. “Everyone says so. I’m too focused on my work, I’m too defensive, I’m too obsessive. I can’t keep anyone with me for more than a few months, they get sick of me or I hurt them. I don’t want you to get sick of me and I never want to hurt you again.”

“Is that all?” Holtz asked, and Erin looked at her, hurt. Of all responses, she hadn’t expected Holtz to blow her off. 

“I mean, you said that like I haven’t been with you almost every day for the last six weeks,” Holtz said, squeezing her hand. “Or that I didn’t hear terrible things about you for years.”

Erin nodded. It was true, Holtz wasn’t going in blind like anyone else.

“So I know you,” Holtz said. “And how you hurt Abby, and how wrapped up in your brain you can get. But I also know that you’re, you know, kind and caring. Not to mention loyal, resourceful, ambitious, etc and so on.” She shrugged, a little pink. “I like that you get wrapped up in work, because I do, too.” 

Erin considered that. It wasn’t exactly how she thought of herself, but she could definitely appreciate that she and Holtz had similar work styles.

“Besides,” Holtz said, posture relaxing back into her usual slouch. “My exes don’t tend to leave glowing reviews, either. I don’t know, maybe you have some ideas, but I couldn’t possibly fathom why. I’m amazing.” She winked.

Erin huffed a laugh. Probably, yes, though she couldn’t think of anything at this very moment. Holtz seemed pretty perfect to her right now.

“So, we’ll figure it out,” Holtz said. “We’re brilliant.” She looked at Erin expectantly. “Conversation closed, right? Enough talking and sharing and emoting? Same page?”

It sounded almost too reasonable. No need for a new room, or her own way home, or a new job? Could she be so lucky? “I think so,” Erin said. “We’re in agreement that we’ve been dating for almost a month, and we’re both wanting to continue?”

“By George, I think we finally got there!” Holtz said, holding out her hand for a high five. Erin gave it enthusiastically. “And to prove it, we’re going out.” She jumped up and water cascaded onto Erin. “I mean, Dr. Erin Gilbert, would you like to go out on a date? Specifically, with me, Dr. Jillian Holtzmann.” She bowed. 

“Yes. I would like to go on a date, specifically with you, Holtz,” Erin said, wiping her face with a grin. 

“I saw this sign downstairs, it’s going to be the best,” Holtz said, tossing her a towel and turning off the fireplace. “Get dressed!”

Their first stop was a creekside diner, where Erin paid to make it officially a date she was aware of, and then Holtz whisked her off to the miniature dollhouse museum in town. This time when Holtz put her hand on Erin’s back, Erin didn’t trip, but beamed and leaned back into the touch. 

Erin also let herself initiate some of their contact. She reached out for Holtz’s hand as they walked along the displays. When Holtz just intertwined their fingers for a more secure hold, Erin boldly lifted their hands and gave Holtz’s fingers a quick kiss. She basked in Holtz’s smile. No one had ever seemed so unabashedly happy to be on a date with her before. 

It sort of felt like a first date, since it was the first one she felt confident of, and Holtz seemed to feel the same. When they returned to the inn, she gave Erin a gentle, glorious-feeling kiss goodnight at their bedroom door. 

"That really was the best," Erin said, unable to keep the grin off her face. "The date, I mean. The museum."

"But not the kiss?" Holtz asked, and Erin removed her hand from Holtz's to smack at her arm. Holtz winked and dimpled at her.

“Be quiet,” Erin said, grinning and still a little giddy, and leaned in for another kiss. This one was electric, and Erin slid her fingers into Holtz’s bun, tugging lightly and reveling in Holtz’s quiet moan.

Holtz wrapped an arm around Erin’s waist, the other circling her shoulder, and pulled her closer. Erin melted into the touch, feeling secure and never wanting to let go. It went on and on, until Holtz had her leaned back against the wall. She ran her tongue gently across Holtz’s lips, which tasted like honey, and broke the kiss with regret, resting her forehead against Holtz’s. Holtz didn’t loosen her grip; if anything, she tightened it.

“There’s so much I want to do with you,” Holtz said, her voice a little rough. “But not here. When we’re at home and in our own space.”

“Yes,” Erin agreed. She understood the impulse; it was going to feel more real at home, and she knew Holtz would be more comfortable there. “But we can take the long way back, right?” she asked, lifting her head. “Make it a real road trip. Extra time, just for us.”

Holtz lit up, stepping back to give Erin a twirl. “We’re not too far from Niagara Falls,” she said. “Or we could stop at the Tree House Complex or the Jell-O Museum. Or the Kazoo Factory and Museum!”

“Whatever you want,” Erin promised, smiling into one last kiss.

While Holtz was finishing her wind down routine, Erin texted Abby--Thanks. I owe you cookies--and attached a picture of her and Holtz in front of the miniature Van Houghton dollhouse mansion. They had their arms around each other, and Holtz was pressing a kiss to her cheek. (She didn’t send the one where Holtz licked her instead, but she did save it as her wallpaper.)

She hit send and set her tablet aside as Holtz set up her sounds for them both to hear, and wrapped herself around Erin. Erin held on tight and they fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Abandoned buildings and islands are my jam, man. Van Houghton Island is based on NYC's North Brother Island, plus awesome facts from Alan Weisman's The World Without Us (in expunged scenes, Patty told us all sorts of facts from both, including a stirring defense of Typhoid Mary, ha) and gorgeous images from Pinterest. I recommend checking it all out. 
> 
> Title comes from The Cranberries' Dreams, which ended up on Holtz's road trip mix.


End file.
